Reflection fireworks follow the water flow

I like Li Qingzhao's "Slow Voice", and I like the words and phrases in "Slow Voice", looking for it, deserted, desolate, miserable... Read it carefully like the lyrics come slowly, but silently, It feels like a red flower falling from the ground, incomplete and gorgeous wrapped in wind and dust, gorgeous beauty, withered into relief.I think that the poems written by a woman with her body and mind are so delicate and melodious. I don’t know why there is no majestic and magnificent scenery, but they can touch the heart and blend into the bottom of my heart!

Drunk in the night, I can see the flowers falling all over the ground, and I listen quietly, and there is a woman sighing softly, her voice is cold and slow.After drinking a few cups of beer, I feel melancholy at the flowers as red as the leaves.There are some things in her heart that she doesn't say, she just murmurs in a low voice to think about them.When it is warm and cold, it is the most difficult to breathe.Three cups of light wine and two cups of light wine, how can you fight against him coming late and rushing?

The cold wind outside is still bleak, and the people in the house are crying.The wild goose passes by, and is sad, but it is an old acquaintance.She knew that the departing wild geese, the fading wine, fallen leaves and flowers, the drizzle at dusk, and the autumn wind at night were not as good as these three sentences from the bottom of her heart: looking and searching.It is a cold word, but it blooms warm flowers, which are beautifully and gracefully placed in the words.She didn't speak, but wrote infinite thoughts and emotions. No matter who reads it, how much lovesickness is in her heart, can be read from those three sentences.The voice is slow, carefully reading out the things in my heart, is it melancholy?Is it sad?Is it helpless that the east wind has passed away?Or is it the melancholy and thinking that is full of flowers?

Facing the residual candle, looking at the bright moon, letting the wind blow, toasting and drinking, full of empty thoughts.Yellow flowers are piled up all over the ground, haggard and worn out, who can pick them now?People are thinner than yellow flowers, dreams go like autumn winds, and a wrong date outside Songcheng Bridge will eventually become a hidden and unspeakable romance for a woman's life.She didn't talk, just kept drinking.Sitting alone in a boudoir with a warm hearth, no one is there for company, and I just want to be alone to cool off, and I don’t invite the bright moon to disturb me. At this moment, no one thinks about it. I just cherish the feelings of this life, everything that happened, helpless, What is beautiful and calm, what is lost and never regained, and what is unpredictable in the future, all become a woman's emotionally rich treasure, and then sing a touching poem.

The wine is slightly drunk, people are drunk, and they pluck the pipa on the table a few times, but they don't want to play it. The strings are like mournful sighs, one sigh, two sighs, three sighs, non-stop, so long.Looking for the window, how can it be dark alone.After all, the sky was getting dark, and the fallen reds on the ground had long since disappeared, and the depression and chaos all over the place.The sycamore trees are also accompanied by drizzle, and at dusk, bit by bit.The scenery outside is already blurred, but the feeling in my heart becomes clearer and more painful with the sound of rain, it is difficult to hide, but this time, for the first time, how can there be a word of worry!The most painful thing is just the word "sorrow"!

Alas——if she didn't say it, she couldn't say anything after all.A woman with a cool life.She suppressed all the sadness and romance into a song "Slow Voice".If you want to say it, you can’t say it, it’s all integrated into a little thinking word, needless to say, it’s only for those who understand, it’s the two strings you just plucked, which draws out the beginning of everything, and then stops it properly, making everything Acacia opened her mouth, making people think hard, full of melancholy and sadness.Maybe she had already turned around and left, that sentence, looking for it, deserted, miserable, still fell on the ground, unable to go back——

"Looking and looking, it's deserted and desolate, miserable and miserable. It's hardest to take a breath when it's warm and cold. Three cups and two light wine, how can you beat him coming late and the wind is rushing. The geese are passing, and I'm sad, but it's the old days. Acquaintance. Yellow flowers are piled up all over the ground, haggard and worn out. Who can pick them now? Looking for the window, how can I grow dark alone. The phoenix tree is also accompanied by drizzle, and at dusk, bit by bit. This time, how can there be a word of worry!"